Bobby's Niece
by Satsuriku-Sama
Summary: Bobby has a weird niece.


_Takes place after Lazarus Rising. Does not faithfully follow storyline._

* * *

"Yeah?" Bobby answered the phone.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?" he repeated.

"It's me."

"Who's 'me'?" he asked.

"Dean."

Bobby didn't even respond. He simply hung up. The wound was still too fresh. He turned back to the grilled cheese sandwiches he was making just as the phone rang again. He turned the heat off.

"Who is this?" Annoyance crept over his voice.

"Bobby, listen to me."

"This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya." The older man sat by the kitchen table and sighed. He looked up at the noise by the door and saw a woman walking down the hall, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. She looked in the kitchen as she passed and stopped walking when she saw Bobby, a concerned look on her face.

"You okay?" she entered the kitchen.

"Yeah. Just a prank call." Bobby stood up and put the sandwiches on a plate.

"Hm." The woman scoffed at the food. "No wonder you're getting fat, old man." She winked playfully at him.

"You want real food, you go buy groceries and make it yourself." Bobby patted her arm affectionately before he went back to his library.

The rest of the day was quiet. A couple of phone calls, a failed attempt to contact Sam, and the promise of a real dinner later, Bobby was ready to call it a day, when he was startled by pounding on his door.

On the doorstep was Dean, looking winded and apprehensive. He smiled cautiously. Bobby looked at him suspiciously.

"Surprise."

"I, I don't..."

"Yeah, me neither." Dean entered. "But here I am."

Behind his back, Bobby took the silver knife he knew was sitting on the table behind him. As Dean approached, Bobby lunged forward and slashed at him. Dean grabbed his arm and twisted it around, but Bobby broke the grip and backhanded him in the face.

"Bobby! It's me!"

"My ass!" This must be some shapeshifter, Bobby tried to reason with his confused brain.

The Dean impersonator shoved a chair between himself and Bobby and held his hands out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father. Bobby. It's me." It tried to convince the older man.

Bobby lowered the knife and stepped forward slowly. He placed a hand gently on 'Dean's' shoulder. Suddenly he slashed again, but Dean quickly disarmed him.

"I'm not a shapeshifter!"

"Then you're a Revenant!"

The Revenant shoved Bobby away, having taken the knife. He held it out in front of him.

"Alright." It said "If I was either, could I do this with a silver knife?" It rolled up his left sleeve, and, grimacing, sliced his arm above the elbow with the knife. A line of blood appeared.

"Dean?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Bobby finally broke, grabbing Dean in for a tight hug. Dean returned the hug with enthusiasm, relief on his face. They pulled apart.

"It's... It's good to see you, boy." The older man struggled to hold back tears.

"Yeah, you too." Dean laughed.

"But... how did you bust out?"

"I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box..." Dean Turned to throw the knife on the table, and when he looked back at Bobby a faceful of holy water splashed in his face. He paused, then spit some to the side.

"I'm not a demon either, you know."

"Sorry. Can't be too careful." Bobby shrugged.

As they went further into the house, Dean wiped his face on a towel.

"But... that don't make a lick of sense." Bobby was still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir."

"Dean." Bobby looked at him seriously. "Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit…"

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject."

"What do you remember?"

"Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then..."

They were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling over outside and a door slamming.

"Uncle Bobby, I got some stuff for dinner, and I found these books in New Orleans I had forgotten to take out of the trunk last night, I'm gonna put them on…the…desk…hi."

Dean turned around to see a woman dressed in light blue jeans shorts, a white tank top, and what looked to be one of Bobby's shirts, sleeves rolled up and tips tied around her waist. Long dark blonde curls were tied to a high pony tail, and her bangs were damp with sweat.

"Dean, this is Alice. Sweetie, this is Dean." Bobby introduced them.

"Dead Dean?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, but you see—ALICE!"

_BANG_

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?" Dean called from the floor, where he fell due to the impact of the bullet currently in his shoulder.

"Alice, It's him, I tested." Bobby stood between her and Dean.

"You sure?" she looked over bobby's shoulder at the man sitting up on the floor.

"Yes, look, the silver bullet isn't even smoking."

"Hm…fair enough" she shrugged and put her gun into the back of her shorts. She pulled a knife from her brown combat boots. "How 'bout this?"

"Alice, NO." Bobby took the knife from her.

"Are you nuts, woman?" Dean stood and made his way to the nearest chair, where he took his previously discarded towel and pressed it to his wound.

"My, that glare could melt an iceberg...shame you weren't around to save the Titanic." Alice turned and went up the stairs. Bobby sighed and sat behind his desk, looking over the books Alice had brought. "Uncle Bobby?" they heard from upstairs.

"Yes, sweetie." Bobby answered tiredly.

"Where's the first aid kit?"

"Under the sink, next to the towels."

"Uncle Bobby? Sweetie?" Dean raised an eyebrow at Bobby and smirked.

"Shut up, ya idjit, and put pressure on that." Dean thought he saw a tinge of a blush creep up Bobby's cheeks, but then Alice pulled a chair in front of him and plopped down, the first aid kit in her lap. Dean pulled the towel away and watched as she cut through the fabric of his shirt and took some pliers.

"So." She started cleaning his wound. "How'd you get back?"

"As I was saying, before I was SHOT..." he shot an accusatory glare at the woman before him. "OUCH! What the fuck, you did that on purpose!"

"What now?" Bobby asked, without looking up from the book.

"She pushed her finger in the bullet hole!"

"I have no idea what you're whining about, this finger gives me so much pleasure..."

"Alice!" Bobby's cheeks went full red.

"What's the deal with you two?" Dean asked, wincing as she continued cleaning his wound.

"He's my uncle." She lifted the pliers and opened and closed them a couple of times, making clicking noises.

"And your godfather, and the one who was stuck with you until you became of age, so you respect me and don't say unnecessary things under my roof."

"You love me and you know it." She grinned. Bobby shook his head and went back to the books. "Okay, party time." She started extracting the bullet. A couple of minutes later, she held it up victoriously.

"Butch." Dean rolled his shoulder and prepared for stitches.

"Pussy." She sowed away at his skin while he continued to explain his story to Bobby.

"Anyway, all I remember is the hellhound, then lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working." He looked worriedly at Bobby. "He's, uh... he's not..."

"Oh, he's alive. As far as I know."

"Good... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

"I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?"

"He was dead set on it."

"Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"He tried." Alice cut in, putting her things away. "These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For anyone. They had to bury you."

"Why did you bury me, anyway?"

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it." Bobby shrugged.

"Well, I'm glad he won that one."

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found."

"Oh, damnit, Sammy." Dean took the spare shirt Alice offered.

"What?"

"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?" Alice asked.

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." He took off his ruined shirt and showed them his shoulder, where a hand shaped burn was.

"What in the hell?" Bobby stood up to take a closer look.

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out."

"But why?"

"To hold up their end of the bargain."

"You think Sam made a deal."

"I don't think so." Alice ran her index finger critically over the mark.

"Have you seen this?" Dean asked.

"Yes," she looked around the makeshift library that was bobby's living room. "but I can't remember where…"

* * *

"Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me." Dean said into the speaker. "Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles…Social is 2-4-7-4. Thank you." He hung up the phone and started searching on the computer.

"How'd you know he'd use that name?" Bobby asked.

"You kiddin' me? What don't I know about that kid?" he scoffed. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?"

"Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy." Bobby grimaced.

"…Right…Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois."

"Right near where you were planted."

"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Sweetie?" Bobby called up the stairs, ignoring Deans guffaw. "Dean and I are going for Sam, you gonna be okay?"

"Okay!"

"What are you laughing at, ya idjit?" he scowled at Dean.

* * *

Alice heard the front door close and rested her forehead on the book she was pouring over. She wished she could go with them, but she promised her uncle she would help.

She was sure she had seen the symbol somewhere, but the constant buzzing in her head was gradually getting louder, and morphing into a high pitched sound.

"Not again…" she groaned. "Why can't you guys just leave me alone?!"

Suddenly, all noise stopped. Even the whirring of her ceiling fan.

Resolutely holding firm against the first stirrings of a headache, Alice rose from the comfort of her padded chair (though padded walls might be nice, come to think of it…) and took her gun.

She listened for any sounds in or outside the house. A knock on her bedroom door startled her, and strode forward to wrench the door open and point her gun out into the entryway at her…visitor.

The man was wearing a khaki trench coat and slowly raised his hands.

"Who are you?" Alice asked, twitching at every movement of the man. The house was riddled with devil's traps and other tricky-to-get-around protections, there was no way this guy could have made it to the second floor.

"We've talked before, Alice." The man stepped closer. Alice shot him instinctively in the chest. He didn't even blink.

"What are you?" she stepped back as he came even closer.

"I remember our first conversation going much like this." He let his arms fall to his sides. "I thought you didn't enjoy seeing my true form, so I came to you in my Vessel." Alice's knees hit the bed behind her and she plopped down.

"Castiel?" she lowered her gun. The man nodded. "You got yourself a meatsuit?"

"I find your language most disturbing." He frowned. "Unlike demons, us angels need permission to inhabit a human. If we possess someone incompatible, the body starts to disintegrate and..."

"Okay, I got it." Alice interrupted him. "What do you want now?"

"I thought you would be pleased to know that you will no longer be experiencing pain when I wish to see you."

"That sounded so kinky, honey..." Alice watched as Castiel tried to figure out what she had said. The confusion on his face was priceless. She crossed her legs and prepared for one of Castiel's long speeches.


End file.
